Sparring
by ZPumpkin
Summary: What better way to bond than while trying to punch your friend?
1. Blake vs Yang

"What'd you get for five?" Ruby asked. She had splayed herself out over her bed, staring at her work in a position that could not be comfortable.

At her desk, Weiss sighed. Not looking from her own work, she passed a sheet of notes to Ruby which would tell her how to do the problem. This was how she answered all of Ruby's questions. Blake sat in her own corner reading.

"When do you do your homework, Blake?" asked Weiss. "I never see you working."

"Library," Blake answered. Weiss hummed.

Ruby tossed her papers in the air and groaned. "This is so boring!"

Weiss snatched her notes with an indignant noise. "If you want to be a huntress you're going to have to do your work. On the battlefield and off. And if you keep whining I wont help you."

"Barely helping me anyways," Ruby muttered. Weiss threw a crumpled paper at her head.

Yang burst in then, grinning all too much. "Blake! Sparring, now!" She grabbed Blake's arm and dashed out of the room. Blake's book did a somersault and fell.

"Does your sister usually do that?" Weiss asked. Ruby thought for a moment, shrugged. She threw the paper back and it bounced off Weiss's forehead. She fumed.

Beacon had a large sparring room, outfitted with every type of gear. Blunted weapons, boxing pads, and target dummies were all available, along with more specialized equipment. This shouldn't have surprised Blake, since Beacon was an academy for warriors, but somehow it did.

"I know, weird, right?" Yang said beside her. "I usually just pop into the forest or something to warm up, but this is nice. It's." She pushed a punching bag and watched it swing. "It's cozy."

"What are we doing?" Blake asked.

"Sparring!"

"What kind of sparring?"

Yang gave her a concerned look. "The one where we use fists. How many kinds are there?"

For a second Blake wanted to tell her about all the martial arts and swordplay and techniques with strange, winding names. Yang was putting on boxing gloves, giving them experimental swings, and she dropped it.

Blake put her weapon into a locker and put on padding. Yang did not, she just stood and waited for Blake.

"Ready?" she asked, taking a fighting stance. Blake looked at the golden wristbands she still wore. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Forget I wear those sometimes." She started taking them off, froze, shook her head, and placed them in a locker.

"You don't usually take them off," Blake noted. The only time that she remembered was when Yang was asleep.

"They're comforting. Like a blanket, one that can punch the teeth out of an ursa and shoot fire." Yang punched the air. "Don't get me wrong, I can still punch teeth out, but it just feels right with Ember Celica. I feel naked without em'."

They took a boxing stance, started throwing light attacks, warming up. "Most people wouldn't admit that so easily," Blake said.

Yang smiled. "I'm an open gal, as you may have noticed. Besides, we're teammates. We should trust each other." She did a quick left, right, left combo that caught Blake by surprise. She staggered back and Yang grabbed her arm, swung her like a dance partner, and they ended up opposite their starting positions. "Which brings me to my point."

Blake's ears flicked down beneath her bow, an instinctive sign of concern. She kept her face level, hoping Yang didn't notice. "I do trust you, if that's what it is."

"Ah sure ya do," Yang said. "It's just that you don't actively trust us."

"What?"

How Yang sparred was identical to boxing, punches and blocks, while Blake dipped and jabbed like a snake. When Yang started matching her movements with more punches, Blake had to contort herself and throw her weight around to keep out of range.

"You never talk to us about something until its an issue." They were out of the sparring box now, making use of the empty room. "You didn't tell us you were faunus until literally the last possible second." Yang grabbed Blake and spun her again. This time Blake went with it, using the momentum to make distance. "You didn't talk to us about your obsessive search for Torchwick until I cornered you." Blake was starting to notice Yang's pattern, too simple for someone of her experience. Powerful punches in repeating sets of six. "In fact, I can't remember a time when you told us something without some serious circumstances involved."

Blake dipped under a fist and caught Yang's jaw with her own. The taller girl stepped back, her hair flaring at the ends.

"This isn't going to be fair if you use your semblance," Blake told her.

Yang snickered and rolled her shoulders. "Don't worry, I'll keep it down. Unless you touch my hair, then all bets are off."

They went back at it.

"So," Yang said conversationally while dodging kicks. "Back to our point, as your teammate and friend I'd like it if you could talk to us about things before they become a major issue. I mean, I don't want to end up fighting some kind of giant robot only to find out its your mom."

Blake choked on a laugh. "I have cat ears, not antenna."

"I knew you had a sense of humor!" Yang chuckled.

As they sparred Blake tried to think of a way to explain her quietness to Yang, simply and efficiently. Yang apparently saw this. She pressed in harder, increased the tempo so Blake was once more tossing herself to keep away. A blow hit her shoulder and she had to roll to keep from falling. Yang hit hard. Finally she ended up in the corner, face to face with what the team called Yang's fighting smile. A lopsided devil may care sort.

"I thought you wanted to talk," Blake panted, trying to work around the walls.

Yang missed a punch, the wall cracked. "You're thinking, not talking."

Blake side eyed the crack. She jumped, tucked her legs in, and kicked off the wall. Surprised, Yang could only spin to face her when Blake cleared her head and landed cleanly. Then it was Yang's turn to be in the corner.

"I'm just not used to talking about myself," Blake said. She was perhaps enjoying having Yang on her toes too much. Adrenaline and rapid heartbeats were beating in her ears, her arms twitching with it. The pain on her jaw had faded. "Not used to talking about anything, really."

"Benefits of being part of a super secret, super exclusive, going to take over the world club, huh?"

Blake didn't have time to shoot a scathing look. She didn't have the energy to do it either. Yang was putting up a fight in her corner, returning just as many hits as she received.

"I was one of the few who didn't want to wear the mask," Blake said. "The symbol was so wrong. But overnight, all of my friends looked like Grimm."

"You don't get secret keeping habits overnight."

"White Fang was always on the edge of law. Even less so for public opinion. We got arrested for anything during a protest, so we tried to do it by surprise. For that to work, only a few could know where and when. I guess the tactic spread to everything. People wouldn't tell me their names because they were afraid I might rat them out."

Yang snorted. When Blake's face was only confusion, she said, "What, pun unintentional? Ratting out, rat faunus?"

"Some might call you offensive," Blake snipped.

"Those some might need to soak their heads. Now what about your old friends?"

Blake went quiet. How could she talk about all those old friends. She had been a child, yet only a touch less serious than she was now. She had still been foolish, trusting the wrong types. They had all been rebellious sorts in White Fang, but some were worse than others. Most, actually, if the new regime was still going strong.

How might Yang feel if she knew that Blake had once run with the same people that murdered Weiss's family friends?

"Alright, you're thinking too much again," Yang said. Before Blake could respond, Yang bull rushed into her and they staggered to the ground. With Yang on top, Blake could only wiggle, arms pinned. Yang just looked down patiently. "Now, either talk or get free."

"Or else?" Blake challenged.

Yang put on an exaggerated thoughtful face. "I could just stay here until someone comes in and sees stoic Blake Belladonna pinned and helpless."

"You wouldn't." Blake tried to be convincing, but she wasn't so sure herself.

Yang blew a raspberry.

"Fine." Blake looked up at the ceiling, past the top of Yang's blonde head. "I was young and stupid. As if being in the White Fang wasn't enough, I ended up near the bad ones. The ones who were happy with the changes. Not the best influence for a foolish little girl. Looking back, they were worse than Cardin, but I turned a blind eye. We were fighting the good fight, I believed."

"Well, I'm hoping your taste in company has changed." Yang shuddered. "The last thing I want is to be compared to Cardin in any way."

"My tastes haven't changed that much, actually." Yang frowned, concerned. "Not the ethics or morality. Just the attachment to danger. I somehow felt that if I was in danger, I was doing something right. Being around my old friends, we were always running from police. They were the enemy, making them angry meant we were winning." Blake's smile is affectionate when she meets Yang's eyes. "With you all, being in danger means we just stepped on Torchwick's toes. And that is definitely doing something right."

"Well, we try," Yang said, looking flattered.

They hold this pose a minute longer, and Blake decides its a comfortable silence. Something she never had within the White Fang.

"Isn't this nice?" Yang asked. "Some heart to heart, little bonding time."

"You have a very… blunt way of bonding."

"It's how I got Ruby to talk to me. You get too busy fighting that you can't think of how to dodge the question or lie or anything. Works wonders, if I say so myself."

"It's great. Does that mean you can get off me?"

Yang considered it. "Nah. This is comfy."

She started giggling to herself, and Blake smiled along. Behind Yang''s sight, her legs bunched up, tensing like a spring. She pushed and Yang was knocked forwards with a little yelp. They scuffled a moment on the squeaky mats until Blake had reversed their positions.

"Nice moves cat girl," Yang said.

"I pick things up. And I think this interrogation has been very one sided. Why don't you talk about yourself?"

Yang tried shrugging and managed a tiny shoulder squirm. "I've already told you the interesting bit. Stubborn girl, search for mom, nearly got killed. Other than that, I'm fairly typical."

Blake quirked her head, brows flat. "There's more to it than that."

"Not really. I get pushy when I'm angry, but who doesn't?"

"Pushy is one way to say it."

Yang laughed. "Let's get up, I'm sweaty and I'm making this mat sweaty. It's all very gross, really."

Blake stood and pulled Yang up. Their hands lingered with a light squeeze and shared smiles. Showers had, gear gathered, they left the sparring room. Yang waved goodbye and started off deeper into the school while Blake turned towards their room. She stopped to watch Yang for a moment.

"Hey," she called. Yang turned her head. "I don't think you're typical."

Yang smiled, and Blake thought she could see the faintest blush.


	2. Weiss vs Ruby

It was a simple scouting mission. More of a practical quiz, really. In a school that taught kids to fight vicious monsters, a lot of things could be considered practical and still be vaguely life threatening. Even so, this should have been easy. Not just because, as Ruby put it, they were the best team ever, but because they were scouting some scratch of Forever Fall. They had even been told that Grimm were rather rare in the area.

So, of course, it took them thirty minutes to screw it up. Weiss knew. She was keeping track, and when Blake froze, bow twitching, before Yang broke through the ground and fell into a cave, she marked it off as a new record for them.

Now they were in some dark underground Ursa infested cavern fighting against a small horde of the things, half blinded by Yang's fire bursts, shouting over growls and roars just to coordinate themselves. Ruby was trying to swing her scythe around in the confined space, eventually just abandoning any elegance whatsoever and carving through the walls to hit anything. An Ursa roared, Gambol Shroud caught in its bony head, frenzying and running deeper into the cave, Blake towed behind like a furious sack of potatoes.

There was a gathering of smaller Ursi, cubs maybe, around Weiss's ankles, which would be somewhat cute if not for the Grimm masks, red eyes, and attempts to remove parts of her legs. A larger Ursa stumbled by missing a leg and Weiss finished it quickly, using its bulk to get the small devils away from her.

An explosion revealed Yang on top of a dead Grimm hill, turning her latest victim into a burnt punching bag until she threw it into the crowd. There were still so many of the things.

Blake came running around a bend, sprinting full out but the flashes of light and darkness made her look like some stop motion film. One second she was far back, the next she was very close and visibly anxious, calling something about mother bears. Then something that might have been an Ursa Major was charging at them, in the moments of darkness Weiss could track its movement by the glowing eyes bouncing towards her.

Ruby called for a retreat and no one bothered to argue, not even Yang. They were harried and surprised and this cave was making their practiced team moves impossible. They ran until they were under the broken ceiling and sunlight, Blake and Ruby stopping to make a spring pad of interlocked hands for Yang to bounce off. A glyph was all Weiss needed to get outside, pulling Yang out of the hole when she missed the edge.

A bone shaking roar from below, Ruby shrieked briefly, Weiss had to hold Yang before she jumped right back in for her little sister. A black ribbon shot out and they grabbed it, reeling it in, dragging up Blake and Ruby while they kicked back the pouncing Ursas. There was a tear on Ruby's shoulder down to her back which had Yang staring. Ruby tossed her a massive severed Ursa claw with a shrug. Judging by the blood on the claws, it was the one that gave her the scratch.

They dropped a tree on the opening, Weiss and Yang putting a few blasts into it to collapse the cave further, and left for Beacon.

After turning in their report to Professor Port, who somehow looked confused and impressed beneath his bushy brows and moustache, and a trip to the infirmary to tend to some minor wounds and Ruby's scratch, they were back in their room.

Ruby was abuzz with celebratory adrenaline, even if every too sharp movement made her wince, until Yang was keeping her still in a crushing one armed hug.

"A nest! Can you believe it, we fought a nest of Ursa!" Ruby stopped fidgeting for a moment. "Aren't nests for birds?"

"The word you're looking for is den, Ruby," Blake said. She looked like she was reading, but Weiss could see her fingers twitching and the grin she hid behind pages.

Giving her sister an affectionate noogie, Yang preened, "Whatever it was, they got their tails between their legs now! Momma bears gonna need a new leg."

"Did you see the cubs, though?" Ruby asked. "They were so small!"

Weiss brought her legs to her chest like the little monsters were going to bite her legs from under her own bed. "I saw plenty of them, thank you. And their teeth were not that small."

"Ah cheer up, ice queen!" Yang said. "Even you should be happy. Professor Port congratulated us! I know that has to appeal to the teachers pet in you."

"All it took was thirty minutes before we," Weiss stopped. Her hand was clenched around her skirt and she couldn't get it to relax. "It could have, we!"

Blake raised a brow at her, because Weiss the heiress, prim and proper, did not find herself at a loss for words unless she was extremely stressed. The entirety of team RWBY knew that by now. Before anyone could start prying into her latest anxieties, Weiss stood and speed walked from the room, nabbing Myrtenaster as she left. There was a lot of stress that needed relieving.

Beacon's sparring room was possibly the least used room in the school. Ironic for one that taught future Huntsmen and Huntresses. But it suited Weiss just fine; she only used the room for those times when there was too much for talking to be effective. Too much work, too much pressure, too much anger.

Sometimes, like today, there was too much fear for her to handle it any other way.

Settling into her fencing stance, Weiss went through basic motions, things that she knew better than her own heartbeat. Thrust, parry, advance, retreat. Guards and attacks that she could do in her sleep. Motions she had perfect control over, nothing to distract her or threaten her. It was incredibly calming.

At least it was until Ruby interrupted her to ask, "Is something wrong?"

Weiss groaned and dropped her stance, wiping sweat off her face. She had lost track of time during her routines, but it had apparently been awhile if she was sweating.

"Nothing at all. Now, if you would excuse me, I still need to practice."

"But that looked perfect already. What are you even practicing for?"

"For the next time we get dropped into an Ursa den, or fly on a Nevermore, or run through the highways fighting a giant robot!" The tip of her sword was digging into the floor, she sheathed it and turned to face Ruby. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong." Ruby advanced into the room. At some point she had changed into her pajamas, possibly to let the bandages around her shoulder have some air. Or, maybe, because Weiss had been there for hours and was only just noticing the darkness outside.

"Nothing is wrong," Weiss repeated, stressing each word.

"You only come in here when something is," was Ruby's retort.

Weiss snapped, "I'm that obvious, then, that even you can figure me out?"

"Yes, even me, you're team leader, your bunkmate, and your friend!" Ruby walked until they were face to face, heights near enough that their eyes met. "I thought we agreed that the next time something big happened, we'd go to our team with it."

Weiss flinched, the words very close to what she had told Blake not so long ago. She had meant it then, and would stand by it, but…

"This isn't big. It's little and completely irrelevant to anything, ever. And I can handle it myself." A finger jabbed into Ruby was meant to press the point, but she accidentally hit on the wound. The flash of pain on Ruby's face took the fight out of her in a second.

It did nothing to Ruby, however. "You know what my sister used to do when I got like this, trying to be secrety and sulky?"

Ruby took an amateurish boxing stance, fists raised like she was about to fight. "Do you intend to challenge me to fisticuffs?" Weiss asked, too startled to get offended over that sulking comment.

"Yang just calls it bonding punches, but yeah, that's the jist of it."

"This has to be the most barbaric way to handle anything I've ever heard of." It did sound like something Yang would do, though.

Ruby shrugged. "I'm not leaving until you fight me."

"I am not fighting you, especially not in your state! Didn't the doctor tell you to take it easy for a couple days? We may have a track record for making things worse as fast as possible, but not if I have anything to say about it! You are going back to your bed before you somehow get yourself killed!"

"Nuh uh," Ruby replied, childishly sticking out her tongue. "Fight me or I stay here all night."

"I can just leave you here, then, and let you deal with breaking curfew and a sleepless night."

"You could, but you won't."

A shower and a warm bed were calling to Weiss, as tired as she was from the days events, but Ruby was right. She couldn't just leave the younger girl here, much as she wanted to. Weiss sighed, "It figures the one time you're actually smart is inconvenient to both of us."

They squared off and discovered very quickly that both of them were useless at fist fighting. Without her glyphs and sword, all Weiss could do was try to poke through holes in Ruby's defenses, which was very easy. Ruby didn't have any concept of defending herself without Crescent Rose, but she made good use of her speed.

The worst part was how weak their punches were. Most of them wouldn't even start bruising. Being a fencer, Weiss hadn't built up any significant arm strength, preferring accuracy and dust to fight. Ruby, despite hefting a scythe that was larger than her as though it was feather light, couldn't get enough direct force to actually do damage. She was very good at side swings, when she could throw her entire body into it. There was probably a name for that specific move, they would have to ask Yang later.

Weiss made them stop, embarrassed and slightly sore. "Let's leave the punching to Yang," she said. "How did you ever compete with her during this 'bonding punching'?"

"Badly," Ruby admitted with a sheepish laugh. "She went easy on me a lot, let me pin her a couple times if she was feeling nice. Usually, though, she'd just try and tire me out until I was willing to talk." She perked up suddenly, examining Weiss. "Did it work? Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Weiss started to say no, then saw the growing red lines on Ruby's bandages. "You opened your wound, you dunce!" she scolded, digging into her pockets.

"Oh. Oops. It doesn't hurt, though. Just a little tight."

Anything else Ruby was about to say was cut off when Weiss spun her and started removing the soiled coverings. "Um, Weiss? It's okay, really, I'll just go to the infirmary tomorrow."

"No, we are changing this now before you get an infection because you were being irresponsible."

"Why do you carry bandages around Beacon?" Ruby asked

Bared to the world, the three jagged lines down Ruby's pale back were almost painfully vibrant. Weiss was frozen for a moment before she could start rebinding it. "Because ever since I met you, and you nearly blew us off the cliff, I was convinced you'd get yourself hurt doing something stupid, possibly on a daily basis."

"You do care!" Ruby chirped.

"Well, it certainly wouldn't help my grade if my leader died," Weiss quipped. Then, softer, "Besides, I promised to be the best teammate. If you won't look out for your health, someone has to."

"Is that what's wrong, that I got hurt? Weiss, we're here to fight Grimm. There's no way we're going to be fine all of the time."

"I know that!" Finished with her work, Weiss pushed Ruby out the door, then took her hand and lead her away. "Follow me."

It was a sign of either Ruby's gullibility or trust that she did so without question. For all she knew, Weiss could have just locked her into their room so she'd get some sleep. That wasn't what she had planned, though. Instead she went to Beacon's kitchens, which were thankfully empty at this hour. She started pulling down ingredients while Ruby watched.

"Uh, Weiss?"

"Get the flour, would you?"

"Sure…"

It was while Weiss was mixing everything together in a bowl that Ruby's eyes lit up. "We're making cookies?!" she squealed. "Weiss you are definitely the best teammate ever!"

"Oh calm down."

"I'm getting homemade cookies, I can't be calm! Or, homemade cookies made at Beacon, which are still better than regular cookies because they're handmade." Ruby thought for a second. "I'm getting hand made cookies from you, I can't be calm! I didn't even know you knew how to bake."

"I was rich, not helpless," Weiss said. "When I was younger, and had a bad day, I'd sneak to the kitchens and make myself a treat. It was easier than asking the cooks to do it. They'd just tell my father I broke my diet."

She spooned light brown, chocolate specked globs onto a baking sheet, slapping Ruby's hand when she tried to steal some batter. In the oven they went. Weiss leaned on the warmed metal, watching the batter shimmer as they baked. Ruby's hand slid gently onto her shoulders, and Weiss let out a shuddering sigh, feeling very tired and very willing to just get everything off her chest for once.

"I'm not like you, or Yang, or even Blake," she whispered. "I don't get my kicks from being nearly eaten alive. I'm not an adrenaline junkie or a daredevil. And in the Ursa den, surrounded and fighting for my life, and you getting hurt, I just… How can you be so cheerful about it? How can you not be scared?"

The hand on her shoulder pulled her into Ruby's hug, which helped less than it should because Weiss's chin was resting on bandages. Weiss didn't know what to do with her hands, didn't really know how to respond to this at all.

"Why do you want to be a Hunter?" Ruby asked. So close to her, Weiss could feel her voice rumble through her neck. She was rapidly losing all control of this situation and found she didn't mind so much. It was nice, being able to lean on someone else.

"Because the White Fang wants me dead," she said.

"Nope."

Weiss stepped back, incredulous. "Nope? Nope what?"

"That's not why," Ruby said with a careful smile. She was being perceptive again, Weiss realized. Perceptive Ruby was disconcertingly accurate and stubborn. "Try again."

"Because I wanted to attend Beacon, the most prestigious school-"

"Nope."

Weiss growled. "Because I wanted to be better!"

Then she was back in Ruby's embrace, and the younger girl said, "Yup."

"What was the point of that?"

"You said you were afraid." For a moment, Weiss wanted to point out that she had never said exactly that, but it was apparently implied enough that Ruby got it. "But you keep fighting with us without backing down, even when the odds are so not in our favor that if we had any sense we would run away." Ruby pulled back just enough to rest her forehead on Weiss'. "I don't think you need to be better, because doing that every day despite your fear is already really good."

There was a smile that Weiss couldn't fight back. "I did say you could be a good leader, it's nice to know I was right," she said, and Ruby blushed.

The ding of the oven cut the moment short, but Ruby told her that fresh baked cookies made up for it. Between the two of them, they ate most of the batch, until Weiss bundled up the rest for Blake and Yang.

"You're right," admitted Ruby. "I would be totally jealous if someone made delicious cookies and I didn't get any."

"They're not that good," Weiss mumbled. She was pulled into a side hug.

Ruby crooned, "Delicious. Cookies."


	3. Yang vs Weiss

Ruby lay in a field of snow, on her pooled red cloak, and Yang was inexplicably relieved to see her. She drew closer, calling for Ruby every few steps. Snow was blooming around her feet, like dandelion fluff. It made everything fuzzed, blurred. Yang resisted the urge to sneeze through it. She kept trying to rouse her sister, moving closer in strange slow bounds across the fluffy whiteness. Then she saw that Ruby's cloak was gone, she wore no hood. Ruby's cloak was gone and she was laying in a pool of red. The pool of red was wet. It wasn't her cloak, and Ruby never moved.

The nightmare always ended at that point, leaving Yang confused and breathless, sheets clinging to her cold sweat, chilled and burning. She had tangled herself up in her covers, the folds were smothering her. She kicked them off and sat on the side of her bunk so her feet dangled freely, and breathed until it was a steady in, out rhythm.

Midnight darkness hid the room, but she could hear the soft sleep breathing of her teammates. Yang wiped more sweat from her brow, pulled knots out of her hair. Then she slid down to the floor, balancing herself on the bedpost because her legs felt weak.

Blake was nearest, and that made her first on the list. Crouching, quiet, Yang stared until she was sure that the rising blankets meant a rising chest, that she was breathing. She reached up to gently prod the girl, and hesitated. She forced through it, but her touch was so gentle, as if Blake were a bubble waiting to be popped. When she didn't, because she was real and alive and everything was fine damn it, Yang moved on.

She could only use one hand as she crossed the room. That made keeping herself upright a challenge; the floor felt slippery. But her other hand had caught the nightmare and she was holding it as tight as possible so it couldn't escape.

Weiss was next, and she received the same treatment. She barely stirred at the feather light touch. Last was Ruby, her sister, who thankfully never wore her cloak to bed. Yang might not have recognized cloth from blood in the darkness. She watched and touched, then threaded her fingers through Ruby's hair, feeling her head stir with each breath, feeling her warmth.

Everyone was alive, and fine. It was a nightmare. She had to stop being so stupid. Nothing was going to hurt them in the middle of Beacon. Yang sighed, stepped away from the beds, and curled up in a corner. The nightmare was slipping through her fingers, worming tears out of her eyes, so she curled her other hand over the first and held it so tight that her fingers went numb.

She was completely surprised when Weiss was suddenly in front of her, arms crossed, face unreadable in its shadows. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Nothing. It's nothing, sorry to wake you up. You should get your rest," Yang mumbled. Her voice was rough as rocks, she knew it, knew Weiss would hear it.

"So should you," Weiss shot back. She unfolded her arms. For a second, she looked like she might place a hand on Yang, but she froze up and her arm went limp by her side. "This is the third time I've woken up to you poking me like I'm some kind of bomb before curling up over here. Who knows how many times this has happened besides those. It is clearly not nothing, it is something, and so help me you will tell me what, exactly, it is."

Under ordinary circumstances, Yang would have been impressed and touched that Weiss was making such effort for her. Her nickname wasn't 'ice queen' for nothing. She told her, "I'm not talking about it."

"Oh yes you are!" Weiss seethed, quietly as she could. "Otherwise I will wake up Ruby, and what happens next will be entirely your problem."

"Don't!" Yang begged. That caught Weiss off guard, her stern face slipping an inch. "Please, I can't tell her about any of this."

"If you're worried about her listening abilities, I must say she's better at it than I expected."

Yang was shaking her head. "She would listen, and that's something I really don't want her to have to do."

They were at a standstill, until Yang pulled herself up and started out the door. She said nothing to Weiss, but she caught pale skin and paler hair from the side of her eye, following, the heiress determined to see this through. Go wherever Yang lead them and let her explain.

Yang didn't know if that was what she wanted, and she wanted to do it so badly.

They arrived at the sparring room. Weiss muttered an, "Of course," then Yang was inside. Her arms felt naked without Ember Celica, the rest of her felt too exposed. She missed its weight, the heat from its burning shells, but it couldn't be helped.

Weiss stood by the door, waiting, while Yang took out a dummy and set it up. She punched it once, twice, gave it an uppercut that made it wobble precariously. Her hands became a flurry then, each one taking hold of half her nightmare, pounding it into senseless noise between fingers and bruising foam. She kept going until her arms shook, and Weiss coughed politely.

"If I may," Weiss said, pulling a vial of dust from her bed dress. Yang couldn't help but quirk a brow at that. Of all the places to put high explosive materials. "I think I can help you… vent whatever it is you need venting. Afterwards, I assume you'll be ready to talk."

Yang looked at her, then at the dummy. It was battered beyond recognition. Its head flopped to the side and fell off. In her hands, the nightmare squirmed back to life, drawing from her like a leech.

Weiss's idea of helping was the strangest brawl Yang had ever partaken in. Using the dust, Weiss created glyphs in front of Yang, setting obstacles in her way for her to destroy. While Yang worked through each of these, Weiss moved further away, keeping to a ready stance as though she were actually fighting. The glyphs were hard, Yang had to give her credit on that. They took her punches like concrete, and broke like glass. Sometimes, when Yang slowed, Weiss would use a glyph to launch herself across the room, landing a few sharp jabs in before she retreated again. Motivating Yang to keep going. The strangest part was that they did this wearing bed clothes.

By the end, those clothes were wet, their hair plastered, and Yang could finally open her hands without fear of the nightmare slipping back into her thoughts. This made Weiss gasp, probably because there were bloody scores where Yang's nails had punctured.

"You should have told me you were hurt!" Weiss scolded, leaning over to inspect the wounds. Yang shrugged. She hadn't felt the pain, still didn't. She suspected she'd have to wear her gloves for a few days until the scars left. "Why didn't you use your aura?"

"I wasn't really…" Yang had also forgotten about her aura, and she sighed. Her everything was sore, she was beginning to feel the dry itches of insomnia, and now she felt really, really stupid.

She took a water bottle from Weiss and downed it in one go.

"You know," Weiss said conversationally, when Yang said nothing else, "I had a very similar experience with Ruby not long ago. She had us spar, because apparently that was your favorite bonding tactic." She shrugged. "It has its merits, as brutish as it may be. She also hurt herself without realizing it."

Silence kept going, so Weiss added, "Although, the both of us were rather terrible at boxing. We might need lessons sometime."

"Ruby wants to be a Huntress to make the world better, to protect everyone else from the monsters." Yang leaned her head back, staring into the lights. She hadn't quite meant to talk. "I wanted to be one to protect her."

A hitch rode through her shoulders, her vision blurred. Yang fought back the weight in her throat, unwilling to stop now that she had started. The words were rising from her throat, and she almost confused them for bile.

"After I nearly got us both killed on my stupid quest to find my mother, I swore I would protect her. Who else was going to? Our dad was too out of it, Summer was gone, and we couldn't rely on uncle Qrow to find us everytime. So, as soon as I could, I enrolled into Signal, trained to be the best I could. I didn't ever want to be so helpless, so useless, when Ruby was in danger." Yang's laugh felt bitter coming out. "I wanted to be a Huntress so Ruby wouldn't have to, so Ruby could stay safe and never have to worry about monsters. In all the fairytales I read her, I was the hero, and she was the princess."

"I can't really see Ruby in a gown, being a damsel in distress" Weiss said.

Yang shook her head. "Course not. It was still Ruby, even back then she was as much Ruby as she is now. I shouldn't have been surprised when she told me she wanted to be a Huntress, too. Just like her big sis. And it killed me inside. Here I was, once again leading her into danger!"

She paused, gathering breath, trying to sort her words, and Weiss took it as a sign to talk. "I've seen Ruby fight. I wouldn't exactly say she was defenseless."

"I know!" Yang brought her hands up to cover her face. Her hands had healed at some point. Judging by the smoke smell, her aura had flared up during her speech. "I know. At the rate she's going, she's going to be better than me someday. But I still don't want her to be out here, fighting for her life. I hate having to look over my shoulder just to make sure something hasn't snatched her. I hate that I inspired her to risk her life everyday. I hate that she even has to fight!

"I hate waking from those nightmares, not knowing if they were real or not, if I'll find her alive in her bed, or..."

Yang is truly crying now, but her voice somehow stays steady. She feels a brush along her shoulder, Weiss doing her best to comfort her. There's confusion and even fear in the girl's eyes, and her hand dips uncertainly, but she was doing her best.

"She's so young, Weiss," Yang whispers. "I forget it sometimes, and then it hits. She skipped two years. She's the youngest person in this school, and on her first day she fought monsters I had only read about, and every time there's some new danger she throws herself on it, and sometimes I can barely move because I'm so damn worried."

Weiss says, softly, "Yang," but she isn't quite done.

"I don't want to outlive my baby sister, Weiss. I don't."

They sit in heavy quiet for awhile, thick with tears shed and held back. Even Weiss looks a bit misty around the eyes. Yang sniffs and rubs the salt streaks from her face, each breath shaking her frame.

"I still think you should talk to Ruby about this," Weiss said. "She's surprisingly wise about dealing with fear."

"I can't, Weiss. She'll feel guilty about making me worry, and I can't do that to her. This is her dream."

Weiss hummed and didn't raise the issue again. "All the same, I'm not the best person for these sorts of things. I have enough issues of my own to disqualify me as impromptu counselor." She glanced at Yang, worrying her lip. "Don't tell Ruby I said that. Or Blake."

"Long as you don't tell either of them about this," Yang replies.

"Agreed," Weiss nods. "I don't know if I'm supposed to hug you, or anything like that. Don't get your hopes up, though. I just…"

Weiss trails off, joining Yang in the traditional thinking technique of staring into the nearest light source. By tomorrow, both of them are going to need glasses.

"Ruby can take care of herself," she says at last, rehashing an argument Yang has made time and time again. "And, if nothing else, she's got a team now. You, and Blake, and me. We're not going to let anything take her from us." Weiss says that last part with such vehemence that Yang sends her a curious look and is ignored. "Even if you don't trust Ruby to keep herself safe, which is a gross injustice on your part I might add, trust the rest of us to make sure she gets out okay."

"We're fighting Grimm, Weiss, we-"

"We're not going to be fine all of the time, I know." Weiss sighs. "You're a lot like Ruby, sometimes. We'll make sure she gets out in one piece, mostly okay, then. Knowing Ruby, as long as she's got everything attached, she'll be back on her feet before it's medically sound to do so. Just, stop worrying so much. It's not just you anymore."

A pause. "You're not that bad at this," Yang told her, with a fragile grin. "In fact, you get any warmer and the ice queen might melt."

"Oh, good," Weiss deadpans. "You're telling bad jokes again. You must be feeling better."

Yang chuckled. The noise felt raw and cool, and she ended up coughing briefly to clear her throat. "It's almost dawn," she said, pointing out the window to where the sun was starting to rise. "Might be a bit late for sneaking back in."

"Ruby will ask less questions if we make her breakfast," Weiss offered. Sometimes, she was smarter than she let on.

"And Blake?" Yang rose to her feet, pulling Weiss up with her.

"I'm sure we can come up with some fish based food."

Yang smiled again, stronger now, letting Weiss lead her to their room so they could steal a change of clothes before they prepared their no-questions breakfast. It mostly consisted of enough pancakes and strawberries to keep Ruby's mouth too busy to ask questions, and various attempts at introducing cans of tuna to breakfast food.

And Yang couldn't help laughing at the whole situation. Flour spattered Weiss explaining a motion of goodwill to confused Ruby and curious Blake while Yang sorted out a fish flavored fire, sure that the Beacon staff were going to demand her head on a stake in a few hours.


	4. Ruby vs Blake

If there was one thing Ruby had learned after years of being herself, it was that her bad days could only ever get worse. No matter what she did or how she tried, everything would go wrong. It wasn't even a quiet sort of badness. Her bad days usually resulted in injuries and property damage, and not the fun kind that involved fighting. Her bad days were few and far between, thankfully. It gave Yang less embarrassing horror stories from their days at home.

Possibly because the bad days were so severe, Ruby had an instinctive feel for them. Like a premonition, if she had to compare it. So, when she woke up one morning, feeling an almost nauseous turn of her stomach, a choking clawing formless hand in her throat, she knew it was going to be a bad day.

The first one since she had come to Beacon. She'd been hoping that the school had somehow cured her.

Ruby groaned, giving thorough consideration to just sleeping in all day. There wasn't much to miss, it was a friday, weekend almost here. Half the students, like Yang, would be too excited to actually do anything, and the rest were stick in the muds. Except for Weiss. She was a nice stick in some fancy massage mud. Probably gilded, too.

Almost on cue, "Get up, Ruby! We have ten minutes before breakfast starts." Weiss was already dressed, tapping her foot while everyone else readied themselves. Ten minutes was plenty of time, really, no reason to rush. Turning over, Ruby tried to sleep again. Sharp pokes into her back kept her awake.

"Fine," Ruby whined. "Stop stabbing me, I'm going."

Weiss muttered something about her finger not being that sharp. She was cut off when Ruby squawked and fell off her bed, to the floor. The pile of limbs she made had never known grace. Ruby was okay with that. The floor had some comfort to it, just cool enough to make up for the bruise on her head. She could forgive it after a little nap.

"You okay?" Yang called. Between a shoulder and a leg, Ruby could see her sister caught halfway in her shirt. There was probably a worried face behind the fabric..

Ruby took Weiss's offered hand, pulling herself together and upwards. "'M fine," she replied. Her lip was numb.

"You're bleeding," Blake noted.

Now Yang was showing her worried face, and was in Ruby's face. Ruby tried a grin while she was examined. She tasted blood now. The floor had cut her lip. It could not be forgiven anymore.

"Just a scratch," Yang declared. She laughed. "What you get for being such a clutz, sis."

"It's what she gets for sleeping in that death trap," Weiss said. "I suppose I should be glad it was you and not the bed that fell. Come on, we have to get going."

Another side effect of Ruby's bad days was an inability to eat. The nausea and choking sensation she felt made it impossible. Her teammates exchanged looks when she couldn't finish a bite of her pancakes. Yang was giving her special attention now. Trying to piece together the usual symptoms. Maybe Ruby should just write up a list and post it somewhere. Clear things up for the uninitiated. 'Ruby's horrible awful day signs,' she'd call it.

Unfortunately, not eating did not mean she had no appetite. She had plenty. It had to go unsated. Her first class was going to be filled with dreams of sugar plums and fruits, just to taunt her.

Her first class had an exam. One she had studied for until she wanted to burn the books and tape Weiss's mouth shut to stop the quizzing. It had slipped her mind that morning, possibly when she fell. On a normal day Ruby had no reason to be worried. Since it was a bad day, and everything had to be bad, she was sweating by the time her test was delivered. Between panic and hunger, whatever memory she had was gone. The questions would have made as much sense in a different language.

When Oobleck handed them back after his lightning speed grading, Ruby felt her stomach fall somewhere near a Deathstalker, who then ate it. Her first failing grade.

Never had sitting next to Weiss been as horrifying as it was in that instant. Weiss always peaked at her score, to make sure she was performing well. Ruby heard a hitch in breath next to her. Heard her partner blink and clear her eyes. The room's warmth fled in terror, doing what Ruby wished she could.

Ruby's face must have been paler than normal, or her doom was written across her head, because Yang was sending her concerned looks. Putting enough despair into a headshake was a challenge, so Ruby added in slit-neck hand motions to emphasize it. Maybe Yang would write her will. Crescent Rose needed a caring home.

"Ruby," Weiss said. When Yang got angry, she literally burst into flames. Blake got shouty and more emotional. Weiss? It was hard to tell, unless you listened for the dip in the voice, the absolute flat way she talked. That meant she was going to tear apart someone, bit by bit, like a surgeon, dispassionate and cold and deadly. Having it directed at her, Ruby felt like she was watching the sun die.

She let Weiss push her outside when class ended, followed her to the library. Held the many, many books she gathered. Offered her scroll by Weiss's order to the librarian. Then back to their room.

While Ruby sorted out the books, Weiss went searching for something. Ruby's stash of sweets, her little pick ups. She dropped them all into the trash, and rounded on Ruby when she started to protest. Her eyes, icy shards, dared her to speak. Ruby closed her mouth and lowered her head.

Weiss kept guard over her while she studied. Not sure what topic she was looking for, she just read the books from cover to cover. Some of it sounded like lessons a few months down the line. Or years.

They took a break for the next class, which wasn't much of a break, but Ruby had no courage to complain. Weiss was silent as a grave.

Professor Port was doing team demonstrations, pitting each group of four against some smaller Grimm species. Grading them on performance or teamwork or some such. Which meant no work for those not fighting. The class was large enough that these usually took two days or more, depending. It was actually a break, then. If Ruby had read one more word about the glands of a Taijitu, she was going to go out and dissect one just to spite it.

Before Ruby could relax, Weiss slid a book across the table, opened to the most recently read page, and tapped it. The bad day, choking, churning, nauseous feeling rose to the surface again. Fighting back a very unwanted urge to cry, Ruby began reading.

A ball of paper arced to land in front of Ruby. She blinked, looked up. Weiss was glaring at Yang, stealing the ball away and into her bag. After a seconds staring contest, Yang pouted and looked to the front. Ruby buried her head into the book before Weiss caught her.

Another ball, another glare. Yang threw five before Weiss lost patience and threw one back, growling, "Yang!"

"Ah! Do we have another volunteer?" Port asked them. The last team was hurrying off, their small Ursa dissolving. "Team RWBY, why don't you give it a shot? From what I've heard and seen, this should be a fine show!"

Stomach hardening in an imaginary Deathstalker, Ruby got up with her team to take the stage. Weiss was glaring daggers into Yang's back, and Yang put an extra bounce in her step as response. Ruby looked to Blake, her last hope, because Yang and Weiss clearly weren't going to stop this. Blake rolled her eyes at the two in front and gestured for Ruby to go ahead.

They were going to have a chat about nonverbal communication after this.

There was no reason to fear, though. A simple combat exam. Ruby could do that. She'd killed tougher, bigger things before. One Boarbatusk, even if it was near as large as Yang, was nothing. Port let them take a moment to plan.

It was simple enough. Yang baits it into charging, Blake trips it, Weiss freezes it to the floor, Ruby impales it. Easy as counting. Four step plan. No way this could go wrong, even if Ruby's hands were shaking for no reason. She gripped Crescent Rose harder, trying to keep them still.

The Grimm was released from its cage with a hearty "Begin!" It snuffled about, caught their scent, and started for Blake, the nearest target. Then Yang blasted it and its red eyes zeroed on her, legs pumping for a charge. It passed Blake's spot. Gambol Shroud shot out, ribbon catching its front legs and sending it tumbling. It squealed and shook. Ice formed around its bony back and the floor, sealing it in place. Ruby got in close, scythe raised to finish the Boarbatusk.

Her foot landed in the ice. Ruby slipped forwards, vaulting over the hind legs, flailing wildly to stop herself. The Boarbatusk snorted, kicking at her with its legs. For such short limbs, they were surprisingly strong. The kicks sent Ruby further up, further away, spinning to the back of the room and denting the wall where she hit. She had lost Crescent Rose in the tumble. Her frantic search for it was cut short when it landed, blade first, a sliver of an inch away from her reaching hand. Metal that had cleaved through entire Beowolves quivered in the ground.

A lingering squeal told her her team had finished the Grimm. Ruby stood, started to free her weapon until Yang stomped by, taking the scythe with her. Just behind were Weiss and Blake, the former somehow looking more cross, the latter placid but for a subtle flinch of her bow.

"Well," Professor Port said. "I suppose that wraps up todays lesson. I'll see you back here for the rest of your exams." As an afterthought, "Assuming they have fixed my wall by then."

Just to punctuate the point, the clock on the wall Ruby had dented fell. Onto Ruby's head. She yelped and held the new bruise, scurrying away from the snickers of other students into the hall where her team waited. Going by the expressions on two of them, she was safer in the classroom, with the Boarbatusk.

"What happened?" Yang demanded. She was still holding Crescent Rose, and she hadn't folded it. The exposed weapon was giving them a wide berth. Ruby almost asked if she could close it before realizing Yang probably wanted the privacy.

"I tripped?" was Ruby's reply. The temperature rose. She gulped.

"You tripped. Yeah, you tripped. You tripped on ice, into a big pig, in a classroom. And if it wasn't a classroom, you would have been killed."

"I don't think-"

Yang flared, fixing Ruby with eyes that were a bit too dark. "Ruby! When was the last time a Grimm let anyone get away with being so stupid? When was the last time they came without a whole pack? If that had been outside, you would have been trampled! You would be dead because of one stupid mistake!"

The hall had emptied, and Ruby was glad no one else was around to see her being yelled at like she was a kid again. The tears were pricking back up, a few escaping her control. "I…"

"You," Yang told her, "are going to train. Until that never happens again, you're going to be in the sparring room, training. Got it?"

"Hang on a minute!" Weiss said. Weiss to the rescue! "She still needs to study." Boo Weiss.

"You think her grades are more important than keeping herself alive?" Yang asked. Her fists were tightening. Anyone could tell she was itching to hit something. Friend or enemy didn't look like it mattered.

Weiss caught the violent tone as well. She glanced down at Yang's fists, then back to her face. "Very well. You can have her train for awhile. I'll take care of her during curfew." Like curfew ever stopped them before.

It was hard to choose which was worse, Yang's orders or Weiss not even referring to Ruby as a person anymore. Not that it mattered. Yang was dragging her off to the sparring room. They had an hour before lunch. More than enough time to suffer.

Beacon's sparring room had some special features, it turned out. They changed the environment to hills, rocks, water, ice, and others. Not that bad of an idea for Hunters. Unfortunately that meant Ruby spent an hour learning to ice skate and fight at the same time, usually with harsh shoves from her sister. Yang watched from the sides, sometimes yelling out Ruby's mistakes.

As far as sisterly bonding went, this sucked. It sucked on every other level, too. On a scale of worst experiences, Ruby was willing to put it in the top ten. By the end, she was sore and cold, fingers numb, and Yang was still yelling at her for every slight. Even for the way Ruby walked. Last time Yang had been this angry was after uncle Qrow saved them. At least then she hadn't focussed on Ruby.

At lunch, Ruby piled a plate high, hoping against reason that she could eat. When she sat down, Weiss pushed a book in front of her.

"Weiss!" she whined, presenting her edible hoard.

Weiss waved at Blake, who was eating and reading at the same time.

Whatever multitasking ability Blake had, Ruby didn't. Trying to read and spear something on her fork ended with her stabbing the book. When she did attempt to eat, the bite she took wouldn't go down. She had to cough it up on a napkin. Weiss gagged and looked away.

Seeking some support, because as her sister Yang knew about the bad days, she instead found a glower. Two out of three teammates were angry at her. Maybe she could spill something on Blake, make it an even set.

At the end of lunch, she was hungrier than ever and had learned nothing from the book. It might have been about Nevermores. Or regular birds.

The rest of her classes did not help. She could barely focus in any of them. Twice she was called on to answer questions and blurted some nonsense. Her notes were fragments of the lessons, whatever she managed to hear over the growls of her stomach and a strange ocean noise growing in her ears. Whenever she had a moment of freedom, either Weiss pushed a book on her, or Yang sent her to train.

By nightfall, Ruby considered herself a mess, and looked it. The bruises on her head throbbed regularly, the cut lip had turned a disquieting purple color. Her uniform was torn, and her skin scraped beneath it. Even her eyes ached.

Wanting only the comforts of sleep, Ruby limped into the dorm room, and was immediately set upon by a book monster. Weiss had gotten more of the things. Mutiny sounded nice. Yang might not side with her, but with enough fish Blake would come around. Two against two sounded hopeful.

"I'm tired!" Ruby moaned, scurrying to her bed before she could be trapped. Weiss caught her leg, pulled her back to her desk. She stood sentry like behind Ruby. "It was just one test, Weiss! Haven't I studied enough?"

"No," Weiss snapped. The first word she had said to Ruby in hours, and it made her heart go the same way her stomach had. Down, down, down. "I will not allow you to risk your education. I will NOT be on a team with a failure." She bent close, so Ruby could turn her head and meet her eyes. "I will not be led by a failure. I deserve better." Then she left, preparing her own work.

Ruby stared at the pages without seeing. She had almost forgotten, in the bad day horrors, that she was the team leader. Months ago she had told Jaune that leaders weren't allowed to be failures. Before that, Weiss had told her she could be a good leader. Now here she was, failing all over the place. Failing tests, failing basic combat. Failing as a leader. All because she felt bad?

Cleaning her eyes, Ruby focussed on the pages. Weiss was right. Yang was right. She had to be better. Not just for herself, but for her team.

Ruby didn't sleep that night, reading by soft lamplight. Bad day feelings followed her into the next, but she ignored it. Yang shoved her awake for morning training. Without complaint Ruby went. Every fall, every hit on her already aching body, Ruby did not complain. She pushed through exhaustion, hunger, and a growing heaviness on her insides.

She had to be better.

Weiss didn't have to push books on her during breakfast, Ruby had them ready. Eating was useless, anyways. To keep her attention up, Ruby had tied rubber bands along her arms. Whenever she drifted, she snapped one, the sharp pain bringing her back. If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything. Between training sessions, she studied. It was a long, torturous morning, and Ruby never said a word.

"So," Jaune said, sitting at their joint table during lunch. "Nora found a movie… somehow. And there's a big screen in one of the upper year lounges. That she also found. That she says she can 'make secure' for a few hours." He looked at the girl in question. Nora nodded and saluted, her goofy smile killing the image. "I was thinking maybe we have a movie night."

"Can't," Ruby said, before Weiss or Yang could say whatever they wanted to.

Nora pouted. "Why not? It's the weekend, Ruby! I went through a lot of effort to get this set up, you know." Ren rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I have work to do."

Jaune said, "But, it's the weekend…" as if it explained everything wrong with Ruby's statement.

Rage, thick and aimless, welled up in Ruby. She snapped, "Well not all of us can just slack off and depend on Pyrrha!"

She was standing, and had shouted so loud that many others were looking over. Jaune's eyes were wide, Pyrrha's were narrowed. Everyone else looked surprised, even Weiss. Ruby grabbed her book and left the table. She had more important things to do.

Outside, Blake caught up to her. "Ruby, you need to take a break," she said.

"I can't, Blake! You saw me yesterday, I'm still useless at so many things. I can't be a failure. I can't!"

"When was the last time you ate?" Blake crossed her arms, using her height to look down like an irate mother. "How about sleep? Have you done anything besides read and practice?"

"I have to do this, Blake." Ruby shoved her teammate aside, going to the sparring room. "I have to be better."

Blake muttered an earnest, "Thank you, Yang," but Yang wasn't around and Ruby ignored it. She had work to do.

In a fit of cleverness, Ruby had migrated her books to the sparring room. She could train until she couldn't move, and read while she recovered. It became a strangely absorbing routine until night, when sleep tried to take Ruby again. The rubber bands helped. Sitting still was dangerous, so while she read she held a rubber band to its breaking point. If her hand slipped as she nodded off, it would snap against her wrist. More than a few bands had been broken. Their remains were making a pile.

Morning found Ruby going at the training dummy, using a mud setting. Ice had become almost easy, but what if they fought a swamp monster? One of those probably existed. There were cloth and plastic torsos littering the room. Beacon had a near infinite supply of the things, which was good. Crescent Rose went through them like butter.

She didn't hear the door open. She didn't hear the sigh or mumbles as someone went through her bag. The squelch of mud covered most noise. Up until it suddenly vanished, turned back to regular flooring.

Blake stood behind her, Gambol Shroud in hand. Before Ruby could yell, she caught the dangerous glint in Blake's eyes. She brought her scythe up in almost a battle stance, and Blake copied her.

Sparring dummies was good for general practice, but fighting a living opponent it was not.

Ruby went first, charging forwards, sweeping her scythe around, up then down. Blake always jumped before she dodged. This time, though, Blake had time to jump and crouch, dodging both swings with time to spare. Then there were two of her. Ruby lost track of the real one. She swung, cut a clone in half, and felt the blunt of a sword hit her shoulder.

"First blood is mine," Blake said.

They squared off. Blake darted in, sword and sheath slapping aside Crescent Rose before it had time to move. Struggling to right her weapon, sluggish in her hands, she felt the slap of Blake's sword on her back.

"Second."

Ruby was getting frustrated, at Blake for beating her, at herself for losing, for moving so slow. She swung before Blake was ready. Blake rolled under the scythe, jumped to the side when Ruby brought it down guillotine style. Ruby fired the sniper rifle portion, riding recoil backwards, then fired again to thrust herself forwards. Now she was moving fast. The scythe blade slashed across with enough force to carve stone. A simple lean and bend of her knees, Blake dodged it entirely.

Still nearly flying across the floor, Ruby planted her scythe, rode out her momentum in a tight corkscrew, and landed to find Gambol Shroud poking into her cheek. A trickle of warmth came from the spot.

"Third."

Ruby growled. She went into a flurry, spinning like a top, scythe going up and down, a tornado of sharp steel. Whenever her feet stumbled, she fired again, putting more energy into the spins. Soon it was her scythe carrying her through the spins. Dizzy images of Blake and the room were all Ruby could see. She felt like being sick. Not before she hit Blake, though. No way she could dodge this.

The whirlwind stopped when Ruby tripped over a dummy torso. Crescent Rose spun into the air, landing yards away. Ruby sprawled on the ground, nose smashed. The room was spinning, so she closed her eyes and had a disturbing feeling that her own head was spinning too.

A tap on her back, another on her neck. "I think the match is over," Blake said.

"Just gimme a second," Ruby told the mat, and maybe Blake. "Just need to work out some kinks. We'll try again."

"No."

Blake grabbed her shoulders and hauled Ruby to her feet. Only to grab her again when she stumbled. The room needed to stop spinning, it wasn't natural. "I'll get better. Promise. Just need more work."

"Are you aware that your wrist is bleeding?" Blake asked. The rubber bands along one arm were blood crusted. Minor detail, really, her nose was bleeding more. Blake pressed a cloth on Ruby's face to clean the fresher blood, stifle the flow. "Or that, in that fight, you made more mistakes than I have ever seen you make in the months we've fought together."

"I know!" Ruby shouted. "I need to get better, I know. Just a little more time. I can get better. I can."

Ruby was partially aware that she had not said what she meant to. Her tongue felt leaden, her throat was tight and dry. Speaking made a sort of muffled croak noise, nasal with the bloodied nose. Mostly, she didn't care. Talking was a waste of time. She could study more while her nose healed. Shouldn't be long. Aura was good like that.

As if reading her mind, Blake whispered, "Are you aware that your Aura is completely gone? That at any point in that fight, I could have killed you with the slightest slip?" She rubbed a thumb along Ruby's cheek and held up its blood coated pad.

Ruby checked her scroll. Where a green bar, a sign of healthy Aura, should be was a black bar. She had never seen that before. It looked bad.

"Remember when I was obsessing over Torchwick?" Blake asked, guiding Ruby onto a bench. She had brought water, using it to wash Ruby's wrist and face. The rubber bands had cut a series of thin lines into her skin. Looking at them, Ruby felt their sting. "I starved myself, I didn't sleep. The only thing I cared about was stopping Torchwick, the White Fang, before they hurt anyone else. Nothing else mattered, I thought."

Blake dabbed Ruby's nose. The smaller girl winced, feeling a strange numb pain. "Broken. Yang's going to kill one of us." Blake mused. She pressed the cloth against Ruby's nose again, had her pinch it as hard as she could bear.

"Yeah," Ruby said. Blake quirked a brow, waiting. "To both, I mean. Yang is going to kill one of us. Maybe both. And I remember the Torchwick thing. We spent hours trying to get you to the dance."

"Then maybe you should have learned from history," Blake said. Her voice wasn't raised, it was low with disappointment. "I nearly destroyed myself over that. It got to the point where Yang could toss me around like I was a doll. Somewhat like how easily I beat you today."

"It's different, though," Ruby protested. "I'm the leader, I have to be the best I can be!"

Blake had been wrapping bandages around Ruby's wrist. She stopped. Silver eyes met amber, and for a second Ruby could imagine being a fly trapped in tree sap. "Funny." She pressed down on untied bandages until Ruby was squirming from the pain of her little cuts. "I said almost the same thing."

The pressure eased. Blake finished the dressing. "If you had fought anything in this condition, you would have lost. Nevermind what Yang said about the Boarbatusk, she was just being protective. Now? A single Beowolf could have gored you in seconds. You would be dead before you could finish a swing."

Ruby swallowed a dry, cottony lump. "But…"

"No. No buts. No exceptions. It's because of you that you would lose, because of this insane urge to be better. I've seen what happens to people when they get that kind of obsession. Improving yourself or righting wrongs, it all ends in the same place. Frankly, I'd rather have you flawed and alive than dead."

In tense silence, Blake pulled Ruby to her feet. She took Ruby's bag and her weapon and guided her from the sparring room. No words were said during the walk. Blake had a faraway look in her eyes, a tightness in her expression, that made Ruby feel guilty for causing it.

"I had a chat with Yang and Weiss," Blake informed when they arrived at their room. By the twitch of the hand on her back, Ruby guessed it hadn't been a gentle one. "They've realized that they may have pushed you too far."

Then she opened the door to Yang slumped on a chair and Weiss pacing.

"What took you so," Yang started to ask Blake. She saw her sister. "Oh, Ruby…"

"I'm sorry."

Everyone stared at Weiss. As far as Ruby could remember, that had been the first direct apology she had ever said. Weiss flushed under the attention and straightened her skirt. "Even if I had a reason to be angry, I did not handle it well. Blake was right. I can see that now. And I may have… implied some things. Things which I would like to say were not true then, and are not true now."

Yang was looking at her, at a loss. Ruby didn't really want to tell her about the failure thing. That would just launch a whole new set of problems. "Thanks, Weiss," she said.

"Oh, don't thank me you dunce. I'm partially to blame for this." Weiss paused, looking Ruby up and down. "You look dreadful, by the way." She turned to Yang, hands on hips, expectant. "Well?"

"I'm sorry, too." Yang twisted a lock of hair, not quite meeting Ruby's gaze. "I… freaked out. A little. With the whole Boarbatusk thing. You still shouldn't have tripped, I mean seriously," Weiss cleared her throat. "Er, nevermind. You scared me. I didn't react very well."

Weiss nodded. "Good enough." Ruby wondered if she had missed some team dynamic, where Weiss was helping Yang apologize to her baby sister. "Now that that's… sort of dealt with, off to bed with you, Ruby. It's early, and the weekend, so plenty of time to rest up. Afterwards, well. That's later."

Ruby wanted to fight. She was still the leader, and bad day aside, there were still things she had to fix. A jaw cracking yawn won the fight preemptively. The bed looked too tempting.

She slept until dinner, waking to Yang's careful nudges. "Come on," she whispered, "you still need to eat."

Before entering the public, Ruby checked herself in the mirror. Bags under eyes, hair greased and disheveled, a few lingering bruises. Her nose had healed. Renewed Aura was soothing all the aches beneath her clothing. Presentable enough for a late meal.

They went to the cafeteria to find their table laid out with sweets and fruits and more food than Ruby really knew what to do with. Team JNPR were standing by the rest of her own team. While the other team looked pleased, Ruby's teammates looked hopeful, except for the scrutiny Blake was giving her.

"What's this?" Ruby asked.

"Well, you haven't eaten in a few days, so what better way to apologize than a feast!" said Yang. "I should have remembered your bad day thing before. Kinda failed my sisterly duties there, huh."

"It's fine," Ruby said. Yang made to say something else. Ruby raised a hand to shush her. "It's fine. I should have told you. Now, have we had enough apologies?" She looked around, then remembered Jaune, and what she'd said to him. "I take that back. Sorry, Juane. That was really, really mean of me. You're a great leader."

Jaune shrugged around a blush. "It's cool. You're pretty good yourself."

Weiss pulled out a chair. "Apology time is over. We can schedule another one soon, if anyone really wants to. For now, I think it's time our leader relaxed."

The food was delicious, and apparently pilfered from the kitchens. Which meant that while Nora, Yang, and Jaune had tried sneaking in, Weiss had politely explained the situation and got everything. Yang was laughing again, patting Ruby's hand once or twice a minute. Weiss kept calling Ruby 'leader' until Ruby reminded her that her name was still Ruby. Blake made snippy comments, which was normal for her, seeming contented. Everything was normal, the bad day feeling had gone away during her nap. Before she went back to sleep, because man, she was still tired, Weiss handed her an overflowing bag of candy.

"To make up for the one I threw away," she explained into Ruby's spine crushing hug.

When Ruby opened the bag the next day to find some of Weiss's handmade cookies, she managed to beat Yang's infamous bearhug.

Notes: I think this is how the note system works, anyways. This marks the end of the RWBY sparring matches. Team JNPR should be next.

Carry on.


	5. Pyrrha vs Jaune

It was the middle of the night, the rest of her team was sleeping, and Pyrrha was coughing into pillow. She'd been doing this for maybe ten minutes, since an itch in her throat woke her up. Now her throat felt raw and choked, her ears thrummed under a foreign pressure, her nose useless and stiff until she sneezed. Every cough racked her, made her head feel worse. It already felt too small, an overfilled balloon fit to burst, so that was quite a feat. She curled up as much as she could until the latest fit passed, hacking out the last scraps of air in her lungs so she was gasping for breath.

Pyrrha Nikos, the mighty, the tournament champion, sometimes called the indomitable, was sick. She really, really didn't want to be sick, hated the complete lack of control. Sure she could make metal dance like a puppet, but what use was that when her lungs wanted to jump out of her mouth?

She muffled a groan into her pillow. Maybe if she just lay here until sheer exhaustion got her she'd wake up fine. Another bout of coughs was forced out of her and she amended that plan to passing out from asphyxiation. Hopefully she wouldn't wake her team, they didn't' need to suffer too.

"Pyrrha?" said the sleep scratched voice of Jaune, killing that hope. "Are you okay?"

"Just fine," she replied. Her voice was worse than Jaune's; rough as sandpaper and lower than he had ever managed.

Jaune was reaching for her, she could feel the bedding shift as he moved. He chuckled softly, "You sound like Nora after she ate that bag of sugar." Then his hand met her forehead. Even Pyrrha could tell it was practically radiating heat. "That, wow. You're hot, Pyrrha."

For a moment Pyrrha mulled that over. "I think you mean I'm burning up." As much as she would have appreciated the words, innocently spoken as they were, under better conditions, this was not the time. She probably looked awful.

"Er, sure." Jaune brushed sweat slickened hair out of her face, leaning over to examine her face. Green eyes met blue, and Pyrrha felt a little lighter at the care Jaune was showing. Then she coughed and Jaune pulled away, wiping his face. "Well, you don't look good. And I might have whatever you have, now."

It was a joke, but likely true. "Sorry," Pyrrha rasped.

"It's fine. Arc's have great fortitude. Shouldn't we get you to the infirmary or something?"

Pyrrha blurted, "Just a cold. The flu. I'll be fine soon enough." Jaune accepted this, trusting as he was, and after asking if she needed anything returned to his bed. Truth was, Pyrrha couldn't stand the idea of Beacon's infirmary. Too open, public. People like Cardin could come in and watch the unbeatable Pyrrha wilt to mere viruses. She'd been sick before, during her tournament stint, and the vulture like attention she received was worse than the illness.

She'd just rest in the dorm room, take it easy for a day or two. A cough, sneeze, and headache were easy enough to handle.

The next day proved that Pyrrha had very little handle on how her health was going. The headache made movement unbearable, and her throat was on fire. A sound like a seashell by her ear, roaring and pulsing, muted everything else. By the looks she got from her team that morning, which were replicated by nearly everyone else, she looked like death.

Still, she shouldn't miss anything over a simple cold. Ignoring the objections of her team, then of team RWBY, Pyrrha went to class. That was a mistake. Concentration was impossible, hearing was difficult, and her didn't stop shaking. The lesson was oil slipping from her fingers, leaving nothing but the idea that someone had been teaching.

Professor Port held her after class, just to tell her she should get some rest, and Pyrrha admitted defeat. She asked Ren to take notes for her and retreated to the team room to lay on her bed. Staring at the ceiling. She wanted to read one of Ren's books, but she might cough on it.

The minutes bled into an hour with the speed of drying cement. When Pyrrha wasn't coughing or clutching her head, she stared upwards and tried to amuse herself. Their ceiling had the color of old eggshells and seven cracks. Ren had fifty two books, most without covering and time worn. Nora's bed was several inches lower to the ground than the rest, a result of too many bounces.

Pyrrha was bored beyond words and had never been more happy to hear the door open. Jaune was fumbling for the handle as it drifted away from him, arms burdened by a mug and tray and books. Pyrrha raised a black glowing hand, a rough chirp of, "I got it!". Her sickness was messing with her semblance, the door moved at a snails pace. Jaune watched a second before setting everything down and closing it himself.

"You seem cheerful," Jaune said. He arranged the tray so the food was more presentable, less smashed looking, and dabbed up spilled juice from the mug. By the stain on his shirt, it was orange juice.

"It's just nice to see you," Pyrrha told him.

Jaune paused to brush his pants and keep his face hidden. He did that a lot lately, when Pyrrha was specifically nice to him. "Well, I got you some food. Figured you'd be hungry by now, since you missed lunch and all." He passed the tray to her. "Nora wanted me to take a whole turkey back, but that seemed like a bit much, then Yang and her started talking about it. And Weiss was yelling at them, and Ruby was trying to get them to take a cake insead, and Ren was doing that nose pinching thing." Jaune laughed, looking over a shoulder. "They're probably fighting with the cooks by now."

Pyrrha had been working her way through the food, tasting nothing, pained by every swallow but keeping on because she needed food and Jaune might be upset if she didn't, when she noticed the guilty silence.

"Sorry, you probably really don't want to hear about that when you're stuck here." Jaune ruffled his hair, half grinning at a corner. "I always hated it when my sisters gossiped while I was stuck at home. Like, I couldn't be around so I had to hear it second hand."

"I don't mind," Pyrrha said, words quick. Jaune would leave if he thought he was being a bother. "What was their plan, for the turkey thing?"

Jaune told her about the day after she had left while Pyrrha wheedled him for every miniscule detail she could think of. It may have gone too far when Jaune was trying to remember if Yang's hair had grown longer. She would have started pressing him for details on their clothing too if Jaune hadn't noticed the time. Almost late for the next class. He sprinted from the room, taking the tray with him, calling a hasty goodbye, and Pyrrha was alone again.

She sighed and rolled over. Sleeping would pass the time. Jaune would wake her up when he came back, likely by accident.

He did. The next day, by calling her name until she stirred. He had general flu curing pills from the nurse, food in case she was hungry. Pyrrha took both. For her whole waking day, Jaune kept her company, talking nonsense when actual topics ran dry. He only left a few times for meals, or the call of nature. Between loneliness and fever, Pyrrha couldn't help the desperately pleased expression when Jaune returned.

That night Pyrrha woke for a short minute. Jaune was still nearby, rifling through medical books and class notes, set in a scowl. She was asleep before she could lighten his mood, much as she wanted to.

The routine continued into the next day, and the next, passing most of a week by. Whenever Jaune wasn't talking, or making sure Pyrrha was comfortable, he was reading books too advanced for his year, and on occasions when the other two members of his team were out and Pyrrha supposedly asleep, he did combat drills with angry energy and a bitter scowl.

Given how sudden the onset was, Pyrrha's sudden recovery was fitting. She rose, clear headed, breathing easily, but muscles bedsore. Beside her bed, Jaune was hunched over some monstrous text, drooling in his sleep. She stretched out the aches best she could, letting Jaune rest. From what foggy memories she had of the week, he hadn't had enough time to do so.

Which might have been her fault. Sickness made her a little more needy than she wanted to be. Poor Jaune could barely endure Nora's pout, maniacal as it looked on her.

Though the extra readings, and the drills...

Using the last of the daylight, Pyrrha worked the weakness out of her body in the sparring room. Staying out of Jaune's way so he could sleep. The workout was needed anyways. No huntress had ever been helped by a bedridden week.

Jaune found her, much too early for his health. There were still bags under his eyes when he poked his head into the room. "Pyrrha! Oh good, you're alright. Thought you went sleepwalking or something."

"I don't sleepwalk." Pyrrha was about to order him back to bed, but Jaune wasn't meeting her eyes. "I… don't, right?"

"Sometimes my bed is a little closer to yours than it was when I went to sleep. Ren thinks you might be using your semblance in your sleep."

That. Oh. That explained why Jaune had to adjust his bed some mornings.

"So, you're feeling better, now?" Jaune asked. The topic change was welcomed. "I mean, you're not going nuts and pushing yourself too hard, right?"

"I'm fine, just a little out of shape. A few days of practice and I'll be back to normal."

"Okay then," Jaune said, patting his shield sheath. "Lets practice."

Pyrrha wanted to argue. He was clearly still exhausted from tending to her, and he didn't have a great win record in their sessions. But she missed their moonlit rooftop meetings. Afternoon in the sparring room was close enough.

She drew Miló, the weight almost unfamiliar to her hand, and matched bows with Jaune.

Swords met, clanging, slipped away and came back again. Their fights were always a give and get, taking turns, block, swing, block. It was good for training Jaune, and how Pyrrha naturally fought anyways. Block then strike. Finding a balance between aggression and defense. She'd seen too many champions fall because they rushed, berserking, going for quick wins. She'd beaten enough of them to learn.

Pyrrha blocked a slash, brought her sword in a routine return cut. Her mind was straying from the actual fight, focussing instead on remembering the rhythm, how her muscles moved. Finding sore spots and weak links and cataloguing them for later.

That was, maybe, why she was caught by surprise when a downward swing missed Jaune's shield. Because Jaune had collapsed it. The barrier she had been expecting was gone and her arm was still too weak to reverse momentum. Pyrrha staggered forwards, attention snapping back, trying to realign her feet into a twirl to put her shield in line.

Jaune had shifted to her side. A light tap on her shoulder and Pyrrha quit the saving move, falling gracelessly into a dizzy sprawl. Jaune appeared overhead, brows scrunched, wearing an almost childish mix of guilt and worry.

"I'm okay," she assured him. "Good job, though. That shield move took me by surprise."

"I was just trying something," Jaune said, smiling and proud. "Probably shouldn't do that to a Grimm, but it worked!" He pulled her to her feet, let her lean against him. Pyrrha made herself comfortable in the crook of his shoulder. "Beside, you're still recovering and I didn't exactly not practice this week."

"I saw. You really should have taken some time to yourself. Not just to read, either. Those books were confusing to even look at."

"Just trying to be useful," Jaune admitted, easy grin slipping away. "I felt like an idiot just standing there. Couldn't do a thing to help you. At least against Grimm I can sorta try, but colds?" He snorted. "Thought maybe I could figure something out from those books, but man, all I got out of those was that getting hurt sucks. Fat lot of good I was."

The tone he had reminded her of their first rooftop meeting, rough, harsh. He was making himself miserable, and no one did that to Jaune, not even himself. "You were useful. You kept me company, even though you should have gone to class." Jaune stiffened, Pyrrha rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, we'll catch up together. That's not the point. It would have been so much worse if I had been alone, and I don't care if you couldn't find some miracle cure. I could not have asked for more from anyone, and…"

She trailed off, remembering a dance and a promised dress, and Jaune quirked his head, waiting for her to finish. Words didn't always work on Jaune. Actions, however. Pyrrha Pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Her smile was thick and sweet as honey, seeing his brilliant blush, his fumble for words.

"Thank you, Jaune," she whispered, and left for a shower.


	6. Ren vs Jaune

Ren breathed in the scents of pine and cedar, mossed dirt and woodsmoke. And burnt sugar?

"Nora, we're on a stakeout," Pyrrha said. "Why did you bring marshmallows?"

"Because a stakeout is not a stakeout without s'mores!" Nora emptied her bag of dozens of chocolate bars and crackers, grinning. "That's why they call it a stakeout."

While Pyrrha worked that over in her head, Jaune took the marshmallow laden stick Nora was offering. "Since you already brought it out, might as well," he said.

"We're supposed to be watching the village perimeter for threats," Pyrrha reminded them. She pushed away the stick Nora was bobbing in her direction.

"We can do that and make smores!" Nora turned to Ren, all conspiratory dimples, like they were in this together from the start. "Right, Ren?"

He raised his own stick and started roasting a marshmallow. Pyrra rubbed her forehead.

"If it makes you feel better, we could do patrols." A hand on her shoulder was all Jaune had to do to calm Pyrrha. She even took the last stick, when Nora brandished it at her again.

Team now conceded to her plan, Nora started preparing the feast, saying, "Maybe the smell will draw the Grimm towards us!"

That made Jaune pause. "We should do two people per group. For safety. Who wants to patrol first?"

Nora held an armful of chocolate and melted marshmallows up, all the excuse she needed. Ren raised his hand, and was surprised when Jaune stood with him. Pyrrha made a move to stand, and Jaune whispered to her, "We'll be fine," and she stayed.

The further Jaune and Ren walked from the fire, the more the night returned. Cricket chirps and drawn out owl hoots, purple-grey shadows beneath the trees and bushes. Jaune kept his sword at the ready, eyes darting to every twitch of the forest. Confident that Stormflower would come to his call, tucked in his sleeves as they were, Ren went barehanded.

"So, nice night, huh?" Jaune said. The sky was clouded, and only moon fragments shined in the gaps. It smelled like oncoming rain. "Well, I mean. You ever go camping, before?"

Ren nodded.

"Really? Like, out in the wilds, with the Grimm and no walls?"

Another nod.

"Wow. Your parents were okay with that? Mine wouldn't let me anywhere near Vale's border."

"I went with Nora."

"Oh. I. Um." Jaune looked lost. "Your families went together?"

Ren shook his head.

A bush rustled. Jaune spun towards it, sword in both hands, tip towards the foliage. After a calm second, his shield deployed and sent him sideways. Ren helped him to his feet.

Jaune apologized, explaining, "I'm a little jumpy. Grimm, and all that, you know."

"I thought you'd go with Pyrrha," Ren replied.

"Well, yeah, normally I would have gone with her. She'd probably drill me on alertness or preparedness the whole time. Not that I'd mind! I thought we should get to know each other a bit more, though."

That explained the one sided conversation. "I'm sorry," Ren said. This was a scene he'd had, in varying forms of friendliness, many times before. Usually the blame was on him. Too quiet, too reserved. Some called him cold, or thought that he thought he was too good for them.

"What?" Jaune asked. "It's completely my fault, don't apologize! I'm team leader, it's my job to know my team. I know more about Ruby than I do about you."

Silence settled, an uncomfortable lull, larger than the seat it claimed. They were working a circular route around the campfire, using its orange flickers as a centerpoint. The faint voices of Nora and Pyrrha still reached them, going back and forth, light with humor.

"I expected you to go with Nora," Jaune said, when Ren forgot to look away from their camp.

Ren said, "I actually don't like s'mores," and Jaune gasped. Hard to tell if he was being dramatic or honest. "Sometimes when we went camping, and Nora wanted to be alone, she'd start making some."

"You were roasting marshmallows, though," Jaune pointed out.

"Other times she just wants s'mores. I help her make them, in that case."

"That sounds like a confusing system. When I was ten, I tried to make a code with my sisters, for whenever someone wanted privacy. We messed it up in a week. After someone used it to watch a show alone, leaving the rest of us in the rain for an hour, we stopped. And that was when the code meant leave, not leave or stay."

"It works," Ren said. It was harder to explain the many tells Nora had, the way her smile would level out, the slight decline in her shoulders, staring at the pink streak in Ren's hair until he left. More than those, their system worked by some intuitive sense they had for each other. Nora had once told him they were long lost twins, and despite the obvious differences between them, he didn't disagree.

"What does she do when you can come back? Shout as loud as possible?"

A nod.

"She wouldn't do that when we're in a dangerous forest, making sure no stray Grimm get to a village, right?"

"That's how she practiced during breaks."

Jaune turned a wary eye towards the campfire, gripping Crocea Mors tighter. "I'm sure it'll be fine. The sheriff said they'd gone months without an attack." He sounded like he was trying to reassure himself more than Ren.

They lapsed into silence once more, now tense. Jaune kept jumping at shadows, and sliced into more than one tree they crossed. They were making enough racket to worry their team, not to mention alerting any Grimm nearby.

"So," Jaune blurted, some time later. "Are you and Nora…"

"Just friends."

"Oh, no, I knew that. Nora tells me that at least once a day, I think. It's a little suspicious, actually. I'm wondering what you two are, really, cause it's a bit more than regular friends."

Ren thought for a moment of Nora, cheerfully loud Nora who insists on the most ridiculous of any choice, who might be a little crazy, who by any standard should drive her partner up the wall and back.

He shrugged.

Jaune took this answer gracefully enough, only sputtering for a minute.

They keep patrolling until Pyrrha and Nora come to relieve them, passing those few hours in companionable enough quiet. In camp, away from the open risk of Grimm, Jaune managed to be more nervous than before. Ren watched, one brow raised, until Jaune stopped pacing and twitching to respond.

"Still on edge. Nervous energy, or adrenaline, something like that." He laughed, shaky and resigned. "I won't be sleeping for hours yet."

"Care to spar?" Ren offered, and Jaune agrees in an instant.

Ren had never made a habit of sparring his team. If he wanted to tone his fighting, he would follow Nora until she found trouble. Long before coming to Beacon, the two of them had been making sport of Grimm, though most of the ones they fought were smaller than any they'd seen in the last months. Fighting other humans had never registered as something Ren would have to do.

He drew Stormflower, examining Jaune as he eased tension from his muscles, wondering how this worked. When Jaune took a ready stance, Ren followed suit.

Crocea Mors came at an angle, and Ren blocked it with a blade. Was he allowed to use bullets? Jaune didn't have any sort of range. That might be unfair, with Ren having two. Jaune swung high. The sword caught between Stormflower's blade and barrel, Ren hooking his weapon through Jaune's with a metallic squeal. At the hilt, Ren twisted and pulled, and Jaune lost his sword.

"Well," Jaune said, considering his shield. "Darn."

He retrieved Crocea Mors, and they started again. Jaune thrusted, Ren caught it again, started lifting the point away when Jaune slammed him with a shield. Ren fell back, releasing the sword.

"You don't have to worry about hitting me," Jaune called. "I'll tell you when my Aura runs low. Or just fall down about that time. Trust me, you'll know."

Ren nodded.

Jaune's next swing was diverted by a blade, the other coming from the side to slash across his arm, meeting an invisible barrier before it cut. A high swing, Ren dipped below, slamming Stormflower into Jaune's shield before he used it. His other weapon still free, Ren hooked the blade over the shield's rim, barrel pointed at Jaune's head.

Then the shield collapsed and both weapons were supported by nothing, Ren pulling back as Crocea thrust. Jaune looked pleased with himself, unfolding his shield.

Charging in, Ren beat a rhythm on Jaune's shield until the other boy tried a swing. Ducking put the blade well over Ren's head, gave him the power for a leap over Jaune's head. Before Jaune could turn himself to meet the attack, Ren hooked both blades over his shoulderpads and landed, pulling Jaune to the ground.

Blinking at the canopy above, Jaune blew a raspberry. "Want to try without weapons?" he asked.

Now weaponless, Jaune threw a heavy punch at Ren's head. Ren moved aside, grabbed the arm behind the elbow, other hand pressed into Jaune's chest, leg hooked behind Jaune's leading knee, and Jaune was on the ground again.

Next Jaune tried a jab, shorter and quicker, repeating the attack when Ren just blocked. After several, Ren found his opening. The first fist came in, and Ren summoned his Aura to block it, hard enough that Jaune winced. His second swing was still in motion, so Ren grabbed the moving wrist and pulled. Jaune followed the motion, stumbling by Ren and trying to take him for the ride. Ren took the reaching hand and pinned it up Jaune's back. His other hand open, palm bared, he pushed a burst of Aura against Jaune's back and sent him somersaulting into a tree.

Jaune raised himself by pawing at the tree, made one effort at standing, then fell over, rubbing his eyes. "Alright, my Aura's capoot and I'm dizzy. You're worse than Pyrrha."

Strange, Ren knew Pyrrha could beat him, likely without problem. "You're not using your whole body," he told Jaune, taking a seat.

"I usually use the sword," Jaune pointed out.

"Yes. But you're too still. You're relying on your shield too much."

Jaune looked to the item, currently acting as sheath to his sword. "Well. It's helpful." Perching on his elbows, Jaune said, "I swear, next to you, Pyrrha was going easy. And I still never win against her."

"I think she was going easy."

"And you weren't. Well, that makes me feel better about getting my butt kicked." Jaune laughed. Ren looked at him, feeling something old yet fresh churning. Whatever face he had, it was enough to make Jaune gulp.

"Most things won't go easy," Ren said.

Ren tended the fire while Jaune recovered his breath. Watching the sparks rise, the orange firefly shapes buzzing and fading, was a pastime of his when camping. Just as Nora brought s'mores, Ren would agitate the fire until it was a frothing orange mass.

"Could you teach me?" Jaune asked, now sitting across the fire. "How to fight more like you."

Ren examined him through the flames. His form was always too stiff, muscles inflexible. Teaching him to move as Ren did would be excruciating for Jaune, and a trial of patience for Ren.

"Sure."

Jaune smiled, bouncing to his feet with a slight flinch. "Thank you." Then, after a mischievous pause, "Oh ninja master."

Ren rolled his eyes, saying, "You're spending too much time around Nora," and grinning.

By the time Pyrrha and Nora returned, Ren was trying to ease Jaune out of a stretch gone too far, the poor boy's legs spread a degree more than he should have.

"Hello," Pyrrha said, concerned eyes stuck on Jaune.

Nora rummaged through her bags, made a s'more, and offered it to Jaune. When he refused, partially because his mouth was frozen in a grimace, Nora forced it between his teeth. About then, Ren caught on, and told Pyrrha, "Don't worry," right as Nora set Magnhild between Jaune's legs. Still in launcher form. Nora went to unfold it.

Pyrrha did worry, loudly, but it got Jaune unstuck. Nora drowned him in apology s'mores until he forgave her, clutching his stomach. Having spent their rest period training, Ren and Jaune returned to the town exhausted, Jaune saying often how much he missed regular beds.

Before he climbed into the rough, bed like thing that the sheriff had given them for their stay, Jaune asked Ren, "Can we try again tomorrow?"

Ren smiled, and nodded.


	7. Jaune vs Nora

That Morning, Jaune witnessed something he had long thought impossible; Nora woke up on time, without the fanfare and noise of a human firework. When seconds passed in silence, Jaune looked over to see her stumbling into the bathroom, yawning and stretching. He looked to Pyrrha, and they exchanged a mute conversation of shrugs and glances. Ren sorted through his books, looking unperturbed. As their resident expert on the subject of Nora, Jaune took this to mean that this was normal enough. Even if it wasn't normal at all.

Their walk to breakfast was similarly toned down. Where she would normally spin and bounce around, or into, everything in the hall, Nora skipped along with a smile. The quietness was so shocking that no one talked at all until they arrived.

They took their seats, leaving packs behind as stakes to their territory, and Ren started to follow them as they went to the food line. Nora put a gentle hand on his chest and sat him back down. The two shared a strange smile and Ren nodded, making himself comfortable.

"Nora?" Jaune asked, as they stood in line. "Is everything… I mean, nothing's up?"

Pyrrha blinked, mouthing his stupid choice of words back to him. Nora responded, "The ceiling is."

For some reason Jaune looked up to verify that yes, Beacon did have a ceiling. Just like yesterday, and everyday before that. He slapped his forehead. "Not like that."

Acting the part of a good partner, Pyrrha came to his rescue. "Is there anything you want to tell us about?"

"Nope!" Nora chirped. Then she furrowed her brow, thinking, while the two trays she had taken were piled high with pancakes and syrup. "Oh, wait! It's my birthday."

Then, like nothing had happened, she returned to Ren bearing breakfast for them both.

Later that day, between classes, when Pyrrha and Jaune could find time apart from the other half of JNPR, they had a serious talk about this.

"I was expecting her to bring explosives," Jaune said. "Set up a whole display. Maybe blow up the school."

Pyrrha laughed. "I know what you mean. This is… not like her."

"Should we get her something? What does Nora like, though, besides pancakes and hitting stuff?"

"Ren?" Pyrrha asked.

Jaune imagined trying to wrap Ren up like a gift, in ribbons and paper, and handing him to Nora. That might be something she'd enjoy, actually, but, "I don't think Ren would look good in ribbons."

Pyrrha considered him in a half titled way, opening and closing her mouth.

"We could get her a punching bag or something." Jaune continued, disregarding Pyrrha's confusion. "Or a lifetimes supply of pancake batter. Hey, do you still have Pumpkin Pete's cereal? Bet she'd like that."

"No," Pyrrha said. "I left the extras at home." Then, cautiously, she asked, "You're not putting Ren in ribbons, right?"

"No, no," Jaune said. That plan sounded too complicated anyways. They'd need so much paper, and a place to wrap him up, and dragging a giftwrapped person through the halls would be embarrassing.

"I don't know much about Nora, honestly," Pyrrha admitted. "I have no idea what she'd want."

"Me neither. With how much she talks, you'd think one of us would have picked up on something."

Jaune was beginning to realize just how little he actually knew about their excitable hammer wielder. She liked sweet things, and was prone to ridiculous outbursts, and didn't understand how to sit still. Sometimes Jaune had to wonder if she was all there, in the head, with the way she talked. For whatever reason Nora's first solution to any problem tended to be violent. Beyond those things, which most of the school had picked up on soon after initiation, Jaune knew nothing.

At lunch, Jaune did the only sensible thing left to him. While Nora was off getting a second helping, being quiet like she had most of the day, he turned to Ren.

"So, today's Nora's birthday," he said. Beside him, Pyrrha paused, fork midair, to listen.

Ren nodded.

"And I was wondering what to get her. Since it's her birthday. We're friends, and teammates, and all that, so… gifts."

Pyrrha sighed something that sounded exasperated and endeared.

"She'll like almost anything," Ren told them.

"What are you getting her?" Pyrrha asked.

Ren shifted, glancing away, and Jaune marveled that the stoic boy looked flustered. "A rather long time ago, she told me that the best gift she could get was seeing me happy. She took this to mean she spends a day being calm." He shrugged. "I guess my gift is smiling all day."

Jaune felt he had uncovered something private, like a skeleton in the closet only it was good. A puppy in the closet? Whatever it was, it made him just as awkward as Ren looked, and Pyrrha was close behind. Nora returned with another monstrously filled plate to a table of shuffling mutes. She frowned down at them until Ren showed her a smile, and she was quiet cheer again.

However Ren and Nora's birthday thing worked, Jaune didn't know if he could copy it, or even if that was allowed. That was their thing, started well before they knew him. Trying to mess with it would be intruding in the worst way.

So when classes ended, Jaune was extra slow in his walk back to the room. He had no gift to give, no idea what to get despite Ren's assurances Nora liked anything, and felt horrible about it.

Along the way, Ruby jogged by, and Jaune nabbed her cape in a moment of panicked inspiration. Unfortunately for them both, Ruby was fast and Jaune had too good a grip. Ruby's sudden stop made her squawk, Jaune was yanked forward as she fell backwards. They wound up on the floor, a tangle of red cape and books.

"Hey!" Ruby scolded, before seeing Jaune. "Oh. Hey!"

"Sorry. I just really, really needed some advice."

Ruby looked at him, then up and down the hall. "Is this about Cardin again? Blake said she's considering having a talk with him, anyways."

"No, not him, it's Nora. Today's her birthday and I have no idea what to get her, and-"

"No one told me it's her birthday!" Ruby yelped, losing track of Jaune's dire predicament.

"Don't worry, no one told me either." Back on topic, "I just can't think of a good gift for her. It's Nora! What does Nora want?"

"Something explosive?"

"Ruby, please don't. I like my room the way it is."

Ruby pouted. "What about a bigger hammer? Not to replace hers, but I think she'd like it just to swing around sometimes."

"Why do all your ideas involve weaponry that will break stuff? What do you get Yang for her birthday?"

"Shells and a free tune up for her weapon, and a box of sweets and hair products."

Before Jaune could question her further, Ruby darted away, probably to make her present and indirectly damage everything in Nora's sight. As an unspoken rule, Nora was not to be given dangerous items. It wasn't out of any mistrust of the girl. Everyone was just aware that she had too much energy, and the same regard for destruction as a storm. Getting her anything weapon-like was not what Jaune wanted to do.

That left him with a few short hours before Nora's birthday was over to find a gift. Which was far too little time to go to Vale, buy something, and come back. Whatever he got, it had to come from Beacon. Beacon had a library, a cafeteria, and a sparring room. That was it as far as non-classroom rooms went. They had obviously never considered gift giving a very essential part of team building. That, or they expected people to not fail at it as badly as Jaune was doing.

Short of hand delivering food to Nora, a feat she was entirely capable of herself, Jaune had nothing. What was he supposed to do, really? He hadn't known until today, there had been no time to prepare. At least he could have made a cake, or something, Nora liked cake. The only hint he had was what she and Ren did, and he still didn't think smiling all day would be quite the same thing as that.

And here came Nora, walking right towards a still floored Jaune. He hadn't bothered to stand yet, too distracted, just sitting on the floor like a dunce. Jaune fell onto his back, staring at the tiled ceiling on a cold floor. Might as well get the disappointment over with now.

When Nora got to him, she stood over him for a second before flopping down too. Jaune couldn't bring himself to look at her, so she waved in his face. "Hello Jaune! Taking a break?"

Sighing, Jaune glanced at her. Nora was twitching, smile stretched too wide, her fingers tapping a nonsense rhythm against the floor. She looked like she had drank five too many cups of coffee, or a couple pounds of sugar. Watching her, Jaune was struck by a sudden idea. "You want to spar?"

"Yes!" They were on their feet in a flash, Nora dragging Jaune along faster than he could stumble behind. "Do you know how hard it is to stand still when you don't have trees to climb or Grimm to hit? Very!"

They barreled through the sparring room door, and had anyone been there Jaune was sure that Nora's manic energy would have scared them off. Magnild was in her hands while Jaune was fumbling with his sword. She bounced on her toes, twirling it, and Jaune realized this was possibly the most insane thing he'd ever done.

Fighting Nora was far away from what he had experienced with Ren and Pyrrha. There was no bow, no formalities. As soon as Crocea Mors was in his hand, Jaune was backing away from a charging Nora, hammer swinging so fast it sounded like thunder.

Jaune raised his shield to block and the force of it blew his arm aside. He ducked under the next sweep, poked his sword out like he was trying to fend off a rabbit with a carrot. Crocea went flying when Nora blocked it, spinning her hammer in a clock hand motion. With only a shield against Magnhild, Jaune started to backpedal towards his sword.

Nora beat him to it, by blasting the ground and launching herself towards it. She threw him the sword, eager to continue, and when Jaune was armed she blasted herself back to him. In all his life, Jaune had never seen anything as terrifying as a high speed Nora missile, grinning and preparing to flatten him. He fell flat on his stomach and Nora flew by, squeaking at her miss.

When she hit the wall, leaving a crater, Jaune figured the match over. That looked like it hurt. But Nora was up before he finished sheathing Crocea, shaking plaster out of her hair. Apparently deciding not to learn from this, Nora launched herself again. This time Magnhild was stabbed into the floor, carving a path towards Jaune. He rolled away, then jumped back when Nora flew right back, hammer cracking the hard stone beneath their feet.

It was completely unfair how fast Nora could move when she was abusing the grenade part of Magnhild. Jaune spent more time running away from her high speed attacks han he did standing still. Nora was giggling the whole time, launching herself with a happy "Whee!" and missing with an exaggerated "Aww."

After twenty minutes of playing cat and mouse, no one had scored a point. Because of Nora's style, she couldn't quite aim her swings, and Jaune couldn't get close enough to touch her. That changed when Nora misjudged her next flight, colliding with a horrified Jaune and sending them both across the room.

When the dust cleared, Jaune was beneath Nora, dazed but somehow still holding his sword. Figuring he might as well, Jaune tapped her back with its blunt side.

"Oh," Nora said. "You win." For a moment her face was calm, taking long breaths. Then she snorted and began cackling, burying her head into Jaune's breastplate. Jaune just stared upwards, panting and feeling the burn in his legs.

Nora pushed herself up, wandering over to retrieve Magnhild. "That was fun! We should totally do it again sometime." After a pause, she added, "When they've fixed everything."

"Fixed?" Jaune asked, craning his neck to look. The sparring room was dented and beaten, looking as though it had survived an earthquake by the skin of its teeth. Nora was rubbing at one of many scorch marks, unable to clean the soot away. "We are in so much trouble."

"It'll be fine! We're Hunters, we're supposed to do stuff like this."

Jaune thought to argue the point. Hunters weren't supposed to break the towns they protected. Sort of defeated the point. A dry, very loud cough brought his attention to the door.

Glynda stood, arms crossed, crop tapping against her elbow, examining the destruction. She arched a brow at both students.

"We'll… just be leaving," Jaune croaked. His throat had parched at the sight of her. He grabbed Nora and pulled her out, offering a sheepish smile to Glynda as they passed. Once outside, he said, "We should run before she gets any ideas."

Run they did, shouldering through other students, sweaty and disheveled, and Nora would not stop giggling. At their door Jaune yanked it open and collapsed onto their strangely comfortable floor. Sprawled out as much as he could, Jaune waited for adrenaline and exhaustion to run their course. Nora teetered, then fell face first onto the floor.

"Um," Jaune said. Nora mumbled and waved her hand, which probably meant she was fine. She scooted over to him, and a blind hand patted at his face.

"Thanks," she said, voice muffled by the floor. "I was going to explode if I kept that up."

"I've been meaning to ask, why do you do the whole stay-quiet-so-Ren-smiles thing on your birthday? Most people would do whatever they want on their birthday."

Snorting, Nora told him, "You should see what Ren does for his birthday."

"That doesn't answer my question," Jaune said, but Nora pinched his nose shut and he gave up.

Pyrrha and Ren found them like that much later, two tired and half asleep lumps on the ground. "Happy birthday, Nora," Pyrrha said, slowly, like she didn't want to startle anyone. "I got you a gift."

That got Nora up, and she was ripping a massive teddy bear out of wrapping, squeezing it with a child's smile.

"Nice gift," Jaune said. Pyrrha offered her hand and pulled him to his feet.

"What'd you get her?"

"Probably detention for both of us." Jaune felt his mouth quirk despite the admission, waving off Pyrrha asking for an explanation. He'd tell her later.

"Group hug!" Nora shouted, Ren already wrapped in her arms next to the newly named Captain Fuzz Major, reaching for her other teammates. For now it was still Nora's birthday, and whether she wanted to spend it quietly or as loud as possible, Jaune was happy to go along with it.


	8. Nora and Ren

Midnight. Still and dark. The soft breathing and rustling of her teammates only made Nora more aware of the silence. How everything seemed to start and end in the room, just the four of them. Nora should be asleep, like them, letting the night hours pass by unnoticed until it was time to for the world to wake up. Instead she was awake, and might not sleep for awhile yet, had not gone to sleep at all.

Loneliness squirmed through her chest, like a living whirlpool, empty, forceful, trying to drag her lungs and heart down into it to crush them. For the last several hours Nora had stared into the darkness, listening. Reminding herself that she now had three wonderful friends right in the room with her. She didn't have to be lonely, she didn't need to carry on the routine that had kept her going for so many years before. Beacon was her home, it was great, warm and lively, so many students and teachers, most willing to smile, wave, talk.

Against all her efforts, the loneliness remained, eating up everything it came across. Nora could only bear it for a minute longer. She slipped out of her covers, tiptoed to Ren's bed, and put a hand on his shoulder.

Ren was awake. That was part of why they had this routine. Both of them were often awake at the same late hour, the witching hour Ren once called it. They didn't have to worry about waking the other up. Still, it was usually Nora who came to Ren first, letting him know it was time.

They sneaked away, wraiths in the dim lights of Beacon's halls. Curfew was up, but no teachers stopped them. No matter how many times they did this, nobody bothered them. Might be luck, might be that the staff knew and didn't care. Either way, Nora and Ren arrived at sparring room with ease.

They had no weapons, no armor. Nora's limbs were too leaden to really fight, and Ren was missing his gazelle grace. They weren't here to fight, they never were.

Nora twined a hand around one of Ren's, put her other hand on his shoulder while Ren put his above her hip. In the silvery light streaming through the windows, surrounded by dummies and punching bags, dressed in creased night clothes, they danced.

Dancing wasn't too far from fighting, the way Nora looked at it. When she advanced, Ren retreated. When Ren pushed, she reacted. Back and forth, interlocked, nothing in all the world but her partner. In a sense, she was fighting something. Not Ren, never Ren, but her loneliness. With every gentle spiral across the floor and every dip and every flex of Ren's hand in hers, the loneliness was fed. The hollows it made were filled with something cool as autumn air, soothing the empty aches. It ate from the dance until it was bursting, the loneliness beaten by its own appetite, curling away to hibernate until it was hungry again.

At parts, their dance was almost vicious. They pulled apart, snapping taut like a whip, only held together by their joined hands before the tension recoiled and they were close again. Their steps would be fever paced, feet hissing as they scraped over the floor, spinning round, one of them skittering away or pressing forwards.

Or it was a soft thing, the slowest dance that ever was. A waltz with no music but their beating hearts. Through Ren's hand, Nora could feel it clearer than her own. She'd brush her thumb along his own, tracing the vein, wondering if he could feel her's. To that steady two tone drum beat they would sway and drift.

One way or the other, fast or slow, between the two of them it was calm. Like the eye of a storm, maybe. All the unwanted things in a fury just inches away but unable to reach them. No matter how long they danced, neither of them broke their even breaths.

They stopped when dawn came, though that was only a coincidence. If Ren had wanted to, they would have gone until the sun set again. They had done that a few times before. Just as Nora was the one to start it, Ren would end it, and sometimes he didn't seem to want to. He would always slow their movements with a resigned set to his face. A prisoner hearing his punishment.

For patient minutes they stood together, only connected by laced fingers though they were close enough to kiss. Nora supposed that was what was expected of them, some classic romance of childhood friends finding comfort with each other.

They weren't together-together, though. That was the only way Nora could think of to describe it. They were as together as two people might ever be, but not in that way. Nora needed Ren and could never remember not needing him, and she knew that Ren needed her.

Needing someone could be mistaken for being together-together. Nora understood that. There were similarities. She and Ren knew each other, trusted each other, spoke to each other in a way that they did not with anyone else. Sometimes they got on each others nerves, or did silly things to annoy each other, and didn't see eye to eye on all the time. Couples could do that, too. Couples might stop being couples over those things. That was the difference between together-together and needing. No matter how much Ren annoyed her, or how she tried his patience, they had to come back to each other.

Their hands separated at last, each one red where fingers had gripped too tight. Nora smiled, Ren smiled back, and they left together.

Sometimes Nora asked what kept Ren awake for their dancing nights, but he never answered. Instead he would return the question. She didn't answer either. She didn't need to know why, same as she didn't really need to know why stars shined. It was just a constant of her world. Nora was just curious to know if he would tell her someday.

If he did, she would tell him that, sitting wide awake on her bed, the thing that stirred her loneliness was her own heartbeat. It was steady, at no risk of failing, but it was a single beat. That felt like too little for her, like her heart was a skeletal drum in a great cavern echoing into nothing.

Standing in front of their door, Nora wrapped her hand into Ren's again, seeking out his pulse. The rhythm of his heart was different to hers, but it was familiar company. It made her remember that she wasn't alone, not with him, never with him. Ren squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.

They had only a couple hours until they had to be awake, but their joined heartbeats were still fresh in Nora's memory. Whatever sleep she managed would be the best she'd ever had. Just like it was every night they danced.

=Notes=

Well, that's that.


End file.
